Ridgefield
by drjamband
Summary: Wilson's life changes when he gets some unexpected news that House and Cuddy force him to deal with. PLEASE READ, REVIEW, AND ENJOY! Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Right shinguard. Left shinguard. Right sock. Left sock. Right cleat. Left cleat. Each time the same. Every Sunday for six years. Standing up in the small laundry room of her suburban home, she quickly opened the door to the garage, and grabbing the black backpack leaped over the threshold, down the few steps, and into the blue Honda Civic.  
As the car rolled along on 295 North, the white and yellow lines whipping underneath it as if being swept under a sweeper vehicle, the girl let her throughts travel beyond the backseat, beyond the rolled up window, deep into the file cabinets of her mind. She visualized her play, how she would make every save, punt every ball perfectly. Deep in her visualization, she almost didn't notice the car park at the pristine fields in Princeton.  
The girl grabbed the black backpack and jumped out of the back of the sedan, greeting her teammates as they all headed to the field together.  
Her brown ponytail bobbed high on her head as she ran after a stray ball, her long legs carrying her quickly back to her practice. After about an hour the referee blew his shrill whistle, signaling the teams to come forward for the equipment check and the rules. Game time.


	2. Chapters 2 and 3

TWO

She stood ready. She knew all eyes were on her, especially those of her father. He was a short man, dressed in jeans, a baseball cap, and holding an orange and yellow flag. He had volunteered to be the sideline referee again. This didn't bother the girl; the people in the stands never did.

A few minutes into the game a ball came the girl's way in the air. She jumped to catch it and collided with an opposing player and they both crashed into the net. The girl lay on the ground groaning. Her coach and her dad ran to her side, shaking her to get up.

"I can't...move..." she groaned. "My stomach hurts." She rocked back and forth in pain, suddenly vomiting. "Call an ambulance!" she screamed, and continued moaning.

THREE

House was sittng in his office, throwing the red and grey tennis ball against the wall with his cane. He was bored. He had sent his team to the clinic so he could have some alone time. Just when he thought he was getting it, she walked in.

"Great," he mumbled, ignoring her by continuing to throw his ball.  
"Why aren't you in the clinic?" she asked in her Dean of Medicine voice.  
"Because I could think of a million better things to do with my time. By the way, one of them isn't wasting my time by having this discussion with you." Cuddy watched him stand up and grab his cane, heading for the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an oncologist to mooch off of." And with that he was gone, and all Cuddy could do was sigh. House was impossible. Why did she even bother?

House found Wilson in the cafeteria and commences in throwing anything and everything he could get his hands on onto the tray: cakes, a sandwich, two cans of soda. He was lost in thought when he heard Wilson calling his name. "House. HOUSE!"  
House glanced his way.  
"Geez, lighten up on the food or you won't be eating lunch for the next four days!"  
"Sorry," he responded. "Boredom makes me hungry."  
"It also makes you incredibly annoying."

House had just taken a bite of his dry reuben and was reaching for one of Wilson's fries when he heard Cuddy's heels clicking towards him. "She just can't get enough of me," he smirked at Wilson.  
"You have a patient," she told him.  
"Bored already," he answered.  
"You didn't even look at the file! Collided with another girl during a soccer game. Came to the ER with sudden abdominal pain and vomiting."  
"Appendicitis. Seriously, Cuddy, you think I'm tha-"  
"No," she cut him off. "Chase started the surgery and found nothing. She was also hallucinating." Before anyone could say anything more House had already stood up, grabbed the file, and was hobbling quickly towards the exit.


	3. Chapter 4

House was already examining the whiteboard with the newly-written symptoms when Taub, Thirteen, and Foreman proceeded to sit at the glass table. There were three current symptoms: abdominal pain, vomiting, and hallucinations.

"Could be Lupus," suggested Foreman.  
"It's never Lupus," House responded in a sigh.  
"Systematic lupus erythematosus causes pain attacks," Thirteen challenged.  
"So do a million other things. Besides, no photosensitivity," Taub responded.  
"Test for STDs and do a tox screen," said House, and the team rushed off to do the tests.

----------------------------------------------------------Patient's room-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"First we need to do some quick checks to make sure you're OK after the collision," said Taub. "We'll start easy. What is your name?"  
"Abigail," the patient responded.  
"We need your full name."  
"Oh. Abigail Sophia Ryle."  
"Good. Can you tell us how old you are?"  
"16."  
"Your parents' names?"  
"April and John."  
"Good, two more questions," Taub reassured Abigail. "Do you remember what happened before you came to the hospital?"  
"Yeah...I was going up for this ball and so was this other girl, and she knew I was gonna get it before she did so she just decided to be a bitch and slam into me. The ref didn't even call it. Total idiot. So then my stomach started hurting really bad and I threw up. That's it I guess."  
"OK. Do you know where you are?"  
"Princeton-Plainsboro," Abigail said with a smile.  
"We need to make sure you aren't taking any drugs or alcohol and we need to test for STDs," said Thirteen.  
"Are you sexually active?" asked Foreman.  
"What? No!" replied Abigail, embarrassed.  
"OK, but we need to make sure," said Foreman.

--------------------------------------------------------------------House's office---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Tox screen was negative, but she tested positive for syphilis," stated Foreman, strolling into the room with the file in hand as Thirteen and Taub came in behind him.  
"Syphilis could fit. Turns out our little baseball player touched more bases than we thought," replied House.  
"She plays soccer," Thirteen corrected.  
"Whatever. Just go tell the parents their kid's been going at it behind their backs."

----------------------------------------------------------Patient's room--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Doctors, thank God you're here. She can't lift her arms."  
"Do you feel this?" questioned Taub, sticking a small needle into the girl's arm. Looking down, Abigail let out a loud and long scream and struggled to break free from the needle's pierce.  
"Get away from me!" she screamed and cried.  
"You feel pain?" asked Taub.  
"No, but I will if you do that any longer! Get off me!"  
Abigail's father looked wide-eyed at his struggling daughter. He then turned his attention to Taub. "What the hell is wrong with my kid?!"


	4. Chapter 5

After the needle had shown muscle weakness in both of Abigail's arms, House had added a new symptom to the board: neuropathy.  
"OK. So. What causes abdominal pain, vomiting, hallucinations, and sensory neuropathy?"  
"Obviously this isn't syphilis," Taub responded.  
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Taub! You see, I was really asking for what it's not. I was confused but now you have shed light on the darkness that is this diagnosis!" House replied, the sarcasm seeping from his every pore. Just then Thirteen's pager went off, followed by Foreman's and Taub's. They all glanced quickly at House, and when he asked nothing, they sprinted for the patient's room.

House, growing restless and again bored, grabbed his cane and headed for Wilson's office. He limped in without warning, and without knocking. _Thank God he's not with a patient_ House thought as he layed back on the couch, waiting for Wilson to acknowledge his presence.  
"Yes, House? Is there something you want to talk about?"  
"Oh, nothing in particular. Just here to visit with my best buddy," House replied with fake cheer in his voice.  
"Yeah, right. You're either here for a consult, which I assume you're not because you would have barged in here naming the patient's symptoms and demanding my opinion rather than barging in here and quietly contemplating. Which means you're here about something else. You're here about Cuddy." There followed a long silence in which House avoided any eye contact with his friend. Finally he spoke.  
"Why do you think she gave me this case?"  
"Oh, Jesus, House, really? She gave it to you because it's a mystery, it's a puzzle. It's what you _love_."  
"Exactly. She's giving me what I want, enabling me."  
"Yeah, so? She's always done that. That's what makes you two, well..._you_."  
"But why? I mean, we've always had this thing going, but she gives me this case of a 16-year-old girl with who the hell knows what is wrong with her, just so she can connect with another poor human being while standing by my side trying to be all emotional so I'll get with her." Inwardly House smiled at the last portion of his comment.  
"OK, let's say I played along with your 'In Cuddy's Pants' theory. If she were to give you a case totally for her self-benefit, which, by the way, she wouldn't, she might be doing it to teach you some humility. You know, to let you actually feel something for another human being."  
House let out a quick sigh. "Well, I'm feeling something: hunger. And I need somebody to help me with that: you. Well, really just your wallet, but you can be the third wheel if you really want to," House said, feigning annoyance at the thought of eating lunch with Wilson.  
"Fine. Let me just sign these few papers." When Wilson's flowing and somewhat girly signature was upon the pages, he and House left for the hospital cafteria.  
"I'm thinking Mexican," House said zestily as the elevator door closed.

After a lunch spent in mostly silence with House pondering the case and Cuddy (not necessarily in that order of priority), House returned to his office to receive the update from his team.  
"The patient was scratching at her feet and ankles, saying she felt like she had socks on that she couldn't get off," Thirteen informed him.  
"When she got out of the bed she fell and couldn't get up," finished Taub.  
"Why was she trying to get out of bed? Wouldn't help her get the 'socks' off," said House.  
"She was paranoid. She thought she was in imminent danger, so she got out of the bed and fell down," stated Foreman.  
"Hmm," House thought looking at the whiteboard. "Increased muscle weakness and 'sock feeling' equals increased neuropathy, and now paranoia," he said, scribbling the new and increasing symptoms on the board is his sloppy, all-capitals handwriting. "Test for hyporeflexia and call me with the results."

Thirteen approached Abigail's father. "We need you to help her sit up in bed so we can do a reflex test," she told him.  
"What are you testing for?" he asked.  
"Hyporeflexia. It is a condition of below normal or absent reflexes."  
"What will this tell you?"  
"Well, if she has it, it will give us a new symptom. Then we can come up with some new theories about her condition." When Abigail was sitting up, Thirteen hit both her knees with a reflex hammer several times, only to have a late response from Abigail. She called House. "Patient has hyporeflexia, what now?"  
"Test for Guillain-Barré."  
Thirteen reentered Abigail's room and approached her parents. We need to test her for Guillain-Barré syndrome. She tested positive for syphilis, and Guillain-Barré attacks tissues instead of foreign infections. We'll need to look for gangliosides."  
"But...syphilis?" Abigail's mother questioned hesitantly.  
"We know this is hard to hear, but right now we need to focus on testing for the Guillain-Barré," Taub responded. Both of Abigail's parents nodded a dazed "yes" and Thirteen and Taub went to run the test.


	5. Chapter 6

While House waited for the results of the test on his latest patient there was nothing to do. He threw his red and grey ball around for a half hour, went on the computer, read his guitar magazines, but he simply couldn't seem to focus. There was one thing blocking his mind. He knew right where to go, his black Nike sneakers leading him down that well-traveled path that his limping gait left its mark on.  
He barged through the brown double doors without knocking as usual, and Cuddy prepared herself for a heated argument, but when she saw his eyes she knew that wasn't his intention. She remained standing behind her desk, saying nothing, as House scratched the back of his neck with his left hand and his eyes roamed the floor. "What is it, House?" she asked, growing a little impatient with his unconventional display.  
He knew he couldn't stutter. He already looked weak by going into her office saying nothing. "Why did you give me this case?" he asked with a hint of innocence.  
Cuddy cleared her throat. "What?"  
"Look," he continued, not acknowledging her response. "If you want to teach me some humility, I don't know why you're bothering. If you want to get closer to me by becoming emotional over some dying girl who's got her whole life ahead of her...well...you could have just _told_ me."  
"House. I don't discriminate when it comes to giving you cases, other than they are the ones that no other doctor can figure out."  
House remained pensive for a second. Anyone else would have thought he was just letting the response sink in, but Cuddy could detect he had feelings about the case that had nothing to do with the case, if that made any sense. He was using the case as a cover-up to talk to her about her about...could it be...feelings? He wanted to talk to her about her _feelings_? But her feelings about what? Why now? But her train of thought was cut off by House's response.  
"OK. Yeah. I just thought, you know...since you're such an overreactive, obnoxious woman who decided to dress like a two-cent hooker today...." And with that he walked out of her office. He knew it was harsh, harsher than usual, but he knew she wouldn't ruminate on it for too long. He had to be that mean to cover up his transparency. He knew she knew he was hiding something. He just wished he didn't have to.

Wilson found House alone in his office an hour later staring blankly at the wall. He slipped in through the glass door quietly and lowered himself into the armchair across from House. "House, you need to talk to her."  
"I can't."  
"You _can_."  
"Not with everything that's happened."  
"No. That's _why_ you need to _talk_ to her. She's still here, House. For _you_. All that shit that happened, it's making you scared. But it's making her scared too. And it's brought you to a new understanding about things. About _her_."  
"I'm not scared."  
"House...whatever. You just need to tell her instead of brooding and pining like a teenager."  
"What would I say? Huh? How could it _possibly_ turn out good? What? I'll just walk into her office saying 'Cuddy, I-.'" But he was interrupted by his pager beeping. _I __what__?_ he thought as he limped away, leaving Wilson with an anticipatory look on his face. _Even if I did know what to say, I wouldn't be able to say it,_ he thought. _Stupid Wilson. If he didn't have that goddamn Messiah Complex I could just ignore this until it goes away_.  
"This won't go away, House!" Wilson interrupted him by screaming down the hallway. House knew it wouldn't go away. And Wilson had just confirmed it. Stupid Wilson.


	6. Chapter 7

"Patient went into tachycardia about two hours ago during the blood test. Tested positive for hepatits C, negative for Guillain-Barré." Foreman said as House walked into his office, throwing his backpack on the floor and heading for the coffee.  
"How could she have hep C _now_?" Taub asked.  
"Old case that resurfaced. She had it when she was ten. Never fully went away." Thirteen said.  
"Hmmm." House mused as he ran a hand over his face. "No Guillain-Barré, but now tachycardia and hep C," he continued as he adjusted the contents of the whiteboard. "Stay here and try to come up with a half-decent idea...or two...while I talk to Wilson."

_1992.  
__ James stood in the corner of the bar. He couldn't believe he had let his friends drag him here for a night out. He could have been studying or doing something else productive. Instead he was...here. In this small, crowded, noisy bar in New York pretending like he was enjoying himself. He saw flowing brown, almost black, hair accompanied by hazel eyes in the front of the bar. The girl was skinny and looked to be in her mid-twenties. __She's beautiful__, James thought as he eyed the girl, banking on the fact that the bar was so crowded that she wouldn't notice him staring. __  
__ "Hey," one of his friends caught his attention, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You should talk to her."__**  
**__ I should, __James thought. After all, he was out, he should have a good time. And she __was__ beautiful. He then walked from his corner of the bar to hers.__  
__ April was here for her sister's engagement party. She was happy her sister and George had finally gotten engaged. Due to their engagement, the last few months had been filled with more excitement for her since the last year had been all about planning for her own wedding, which had become stressful. Her dark brown, almost black, hair shimmered as she downed shots with her sister and their friends. She then noticed a handsome young man walking her way. He looked to be about in his mid-twenties, with chestnut eyes and dark brown hair to match. She smiled at him, and he nervously grinned back and began: "Hi, um, I understand if you're with your friends and all, it's just that...." She gave him a somewhat nervous, somewhat puzzled look before he continued. "It's just that you're...really...pretty and I thought maybe you'd want to have a drink with me."__  
__ "I'd love to," she replied. __He seems nice,__ she thought. __Maybe we can be friends.__ They sat down at the bar and their drinks came.__  
__ "I'm James," he told her.__  
__ "I'm April. What brings you here? Hunting for a girl?"__  
__ "No! No," he replied, blushing and holding his hands in front of him for defense. She laughed. He smiled wider. "Well, I should be studying I guess, but my friends brought me here. Said I needed to get out. How about you?"__  
__ "Sister's engagement party."__  
__ "Oh! Well, tell her I said congratulations."__  
__ "I'll pass it along," she replied with a small but genuine smile and put her hand over his, which was resting on his lap.__  
__ They talked for the next hour and hadn't even realized how many drinks they'd consumed, when James leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, just to see how she would react, but she kissed back passionately. They got up from their barstools and he grabbed her hand, leading her to the parkinglot. He unlocked his car and they scrambled into the backseat, taking their clothes off rapidly. "I thought you should be studying," she teased.__  
__God she's beautiful,_ _he thought. He smiled. "Fuck studying," he replied. Once they were undressed she wrapped her legs around his waist and he pulled her closer. She grabbed him and pulled him into her while pushing his back against the wall of the car. He groaned in pleasure and put both his hands on the small of her back. She moved her hips with his, creating a perfect rhythm that made his entire body feel warm. He kissed her, feeling every part of her mouth with his tongue, then licked her collarbone while she kissed behind his ear. Her knees pushed harder against his hips and she screamed his name into the darkness of the backseat. His legs became weak as he shook in response to her delight, and she shook as well, biting his bottom lip. A few seconds later she sighed softly and contentedly, laying on top of him with her head on his chest. He nuzzled her head and pulled a blanket out from under the seat to put over them. They were both smiling as they fell asleep.__  
__ The next morning April awoke still on top of James as he held her gently in his arms, his cheek resting on the top of her head. She gently got up, put the blanket over him, and quickly got dressed. __Shit__, she thought. How could she have let this happen? She was engaged for God's sakes! And she had totally abandoned her sister and their friends for the rest of the night. She was hoping that everyone was too drunk to notice her absence. She took one last look at the adorable man sleeping in the backseat and quietly slipped out.__  
__ James awoke twenty minutes later to find himself laying in the backseat of his car with nothing but a blanket on. He realized that April was already gone and frowned a little. He had a killer headache from all the alcohol, but he quickly got dressed and drove home._


	7. Chapter 8

"Hepatocellular carcinoma!" House stated loudly as he entered Wilson's office, shutting the door behind him.  
"Gestational Trophoblastic tumor! What are we doing?" Wilson asked, visibly irriatated.  
"Knew my wit would rub off on you someday. I think my patient has hepatocellular carcinoma."  
"OK. So do a CT with contrast and show me."  
"I'd rather you came with me to do it."  
"Why?" Wilson questioned, befuddled.  
"Look, I didn't wanna say anything, but..." House lowered his voice, "you're an oncologist."  
"No! How did I not know about this?" Wilson responded, feigning shock.  
"I know, right! Thought I'd tell you right away so you could keep the Gossip Mill spinning."  
"Thanks, but seriously, _why_ am I doing this?"  
House glanced at his watch. "_General Hospital_ starts in three minutes, dude. But, seeing as my patient's dying, can't really afford to lose time," he snarked.  
Wilson sighed. "Fine," he resigned, "I'll do it."

As Abigail lay in the CT machine she heard a male voice coming through the speakers. "Abigail? This is Dr. Wilson. I just need you to be still for a few minutes while the dye gets absorbed, and then I'm going to turn on the mahine." He sounded comforting, caring, and a bit concerned all at the same time. Of course, Wilson sounded all of these things to all of his patients, but for some reason his voice caused Abigail's brow to furrow in concentration. It brought to the forefront of her mind a half-buried memory that she couldn't seem to assign a time or date.

"I didn't find anything, but I'll do an ultrasound to confirm. You wanna come?"  
House looked for a moment at Wilson, his blue eyes playfully wide. "OK!" he said boyishly. Once inside the room, Wilson approached Abigail right away and started preparing for the ultrasound while House stayed at the threshold, twirling his cane in his fingers. Abigail stared at the ceiling while Wilson focused on the screen. She then turned her head towards the screen at the same instant House looked down at both of them, causing him to yell in surprise. "Oh my God!" he said.  
"What?" Wilson asked, alarmed by House's sudden outburst. But House's eyes were doing that thing again. They roamed the room directly in front of him, looking at nothing, a side effect of his brain processing newly acquired information. He then turned swiftly and walked out of the room. Wilson turned off the ultrasound machine. "I think we're done." Abigail just shrugged as Wilson slowly left the room.

"Acute. Intermittent. Porphyria!" House said triumphantly to his team as he limped methodically into his office, giving everyone a closed-lip smile, raised eyebrows, and a widening of the eyes.  
Foreman studied the whiteboard for a moment then spoke. "It fits."  
"I know it fits," House responded. "Come with me."  
House, Thirteen, Taub, and Foreman all arrived in Abigail's room a moment later. "How did you figure it out?" asked Thirteen, unwittingly sending concerned glances Abigail's way.  
"Genetics," House replied. "And...." He walked over to Abigail's mother. "She's been wearing long sleeves every day since she's been here, even though the weather has been unseasonably warm." He then forcefully tugged her right sleeve up. "Burns," he stated, revealing the puckered skin on her arm. "AIP patients take hot showers to relieve nausea, but often burn or fall as a side effect."  
"I have this thing too?" Abigail's mother questioned with a worried tone and expression.  
"Seems that way," House replied. "Porphyria is a genetic disorder, so we'll need a blood sample to confirm. She'll have to be on pain killers and monitored for future illness, as will you." He then turned to his team. "Give her a 10% glucose infusion, phenothiazines for the nausea she's no doubtedly been feeling, and Hematin." The team left the room, and a few minutes later House had drawn Abigail's blood along with both her parents'.

The team was sitting in House's office the next morning when House came in, characteristically late. "Blood and DNA tests confirm AIP, the mom's the carrier."  
"Great," Foreman said.  
"The strange thing is," House prefaced, "her mom's her mom, but her daddy isn't her daddy."


	8. Chapter 9

"Who cares?" asked Foreman. "The case is solved anyway. I don't see why _you_ care."  
House ignored the inquiry completely. "How would you get someone's blood without them knowing?"  
"You could check the hospital files," Foreman offered.  
"Why?" asked Thirteen, prepared to stop House from going through with whatever crazy scheme he had just come up with.  
"Need Cuddy's blood to prove she's a man. Then she can stop stalking me because she has the hots for me." Thirteen and Foreman rolled their eyes, while Taub lifted his head tentatively.  
"You're not...serious, are you?" he asked.  
"Of course not!" House responded enthusiastically. "Just because she's a man doesn't mean she still won't have the hots for me." And with a wink and that last remark he slipped out of his office, leaving his team to speculate about the nature of the man that was Gregory House once again.

House slipped down to the morgue, one of his favorite thinking places. No one there that could contradict him, judge him, bother him. Just him and his thoughts. He had a plan, a good one, but first he needed to talk to Wilson about it.

"Need your help!" House shouted as he slid into Wilson's office, holding the door open by the knob. Wilson just gave him an _I can't believe I'm going to listen to this but then again I can so just get on with it_ look, so House continued. "I need you to get my patient's dad to consent to a paternity test."  
"You haven't discharged her yet?"  
"Not the point, Wilson."  
"House-" he faltered, but quickly recovered, "that has no medical relevance. Just because you got away with performing a paternity test on your own father doesn't mean you can just do these random things to everyone."  
"Wilson, she has AIP for God's sakes!" he whined, widening his eyes in reason. "How do I know the real dad isn't a carrier too?" He knew the real dad wasn't a carrier, of course he knew it, but he needed to make a legitimate plea to rope Wilson in.  
"Wait a minute...Abigail's dad isn't her dad?"  
"If by her 'dad' you mean the oaf that's in the room with her, then yes." House countered.  
"Then there is _absolutely_ no need for this, House. Unless you know who the real father is, then...." He ended by shrugging and raising his eyebrows, hoping the conversation would end there even though he knew it wouldn't.  
"I do know who it is! You interested? I'll point him out...." House entinced. He knew this would feed Wilson's gossip addiction, albeit it was a small bone. Wilson sighed, then moved around his desk to leave his office. House held the door open for him and he went.  
_What the-_ Wilson thought, but was cut off by House pushing him against the wall outside his office. Wilson watched in half astonishment, half horror as House rapidly secured the band around Wilson's left arm and drew the blood from his vein. "House, what the hell?!" he screamed as House limped down the hall, needle in hand. He turned to see Wilson running after him and promptly whacked him behind the kneecaps with his cane. "Dammit, House!" Wilson groaned as lay curled on the cold tile floor of the hallway. A nurse came to help him up while shooting a death glare at House.  
Cuddy, hearing the yelling and repeated cursing of House, came straight out of her office. "House, what on Earth-"  
"No time!" he yelled as he breezed past her towards the lab, leaving her confused as she looked to Wilson, who was on all fours.

A week later House was sitting frustrated in Exam Room One with a mother who insisted her daughter had swine flu. He had finally assured her it was just a bad cold and opened the door to let them out when he spotted Cuddy. "Yeah, um, have a good day," he heard himself mumble to the mother and daughter as he hurried out of the room. "Cuddy!" he called. She stared back. "Need you!" he added, hoping that would reel her in.  
"House, I'm busy, I don't need you-"  
"I need to talk to you," he mumbled gruffly. She tried to see through his piercing blue stare but couldn't. His eyes were clouded, and it concerned her.  
"OK," she said, almost whispering.  
Once inside her office, House sat down in one of the chairs facing Cuddy's desk, something he normally didn't do. She sensed his uneasiness. "I found the real father of my patient," he informed her, eyes on the floor.  
"You mean her dad wasn't her real dad?" she asked, slightly astonished. He shook his head no. "House why are you telling me this?"  
He gulped. "I need to tell you who the real father is."  
"No, you don't," she replied sternly, walking towards the door to open it and hopefully let him out. "That is doctor-patient confidentiality."  
"It's Wilson," he said as soon as she had finished her sentence.


	9. Chapter 10

It was Cuddy's turn to be shocked. Her eyes widened and her face grew pale. "We have to tell him," she urgently stated the obvious.  
"Aw, I was hoping we could just keep this between you and me," House joked with an exaggerated wink.  
"House! This is no time to be joking. This is very serious."  
"Jesus, Cuddy, it's not like he's dying or anything. So he's got a lovechild, who doesn't these days? I'd say you and I were behind on that trend."  
Cuddy just exhaled loudly, not even giving House the satisfaction of an eye-roll. "I'd rather this not become hospital news. We need to keep this private," she said, begging House with her eyes.  
"Yes, mistress," he said in a deep tone not unlike Lurch.

The thought of why Cuddy didn't try to stop him from leaving her office, or why she didn't suspect that he was going to go right to Wilson, rattled around in House's brain, but he was too excited to show his friend the news that he didn't think much of it. After all, she would just be postponing the inevitable. He was glad. And it wasn't like Wilson would be spreading _this_ one around the hospital anyway. He arrived in Wilson's office, cane in one hand, and the single sheet of paper in the other. "You gotta see this," House said evenly. Wilson continued to sign papers as House put the sheet in his hands. Once Wilson saw the DNA sequencing, he knew House had gone ahead with the test anyway.  
"God, House, you did the test?! Well did you show the father?" He asked the second question without missing a beat, the first one, he realized, was quite rhetorical.  
"I am now," House said, a bit of whimsy in his tone. Wilson didn't even need to look at the name to know. The meaning of House's earlier antics flooded every part of his body. He felt as though he was were watching a giant tidalwave come toward him and he couldn't stop it nor could he move out of the way. He could only brace himself for the impact. He breathed rapidly and loudly, then gulped and stole a glance at the result: POSITIVE.  
"How is this..." he breathed in and out a few more times, "...possible? What's the mom's name?"  
"April. Maiden name...." But this was all Wilson needed to hear. He hadn't even known her last name anyway. The memory of that night in the parking lot, the feeling of disappointment upon waking up, everything led him to the conclusion that he must have gotten April pregnant that night. After all, he never saw her again.  
"You bastard," he told House.  
"Me?! I had nothing to do with this!"  
"You shouldn't have done the test! You're so obsessive that you need to ruin everyone else's lives! You've gone too far, House," Wilson shot back, shaking with what House perceived at the time as rage, but was really fear...of himself and of the consequences. By the time House had gained back his composure Wilson was halfway out the door of his office.  
"It wasn't even my fault!" House yelled.

Wilson knocked softly on the big brown doors of Cuddy's office. She knew it was him, and he entered quietly, his face a mixture of fear, hurt, and confusion. She didn't know what to say to him, but luckily he spoke first. "I...."  
"Shh," she comforted him, rubbing his back with her right hand. He turned towards the big picture windows in the back of the office and searched the sky for a clue, hands in pockets.  
"How am I supposed to-." And then it happened. Wilson yanked his hands out of his pockets and threw them up towards his face, sobbing into them loudly, much as he did when he found out about Amber's impending death. He quickly spun around and rested his head on Cuddy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he told her. "I just don't know what to do." Just then they heard a knock on the door, which opened just enough so that they could both see the silhouette of a tall, thin man with a cane to his right.  
"Her name is Abigail," House said, trying to make her more real, more human to Wilson. Wilson's face reddend.  
"House," he began in a tone not unlike that used by a father warning his son, "get. Out of here," he finished through clenched teeth.  
"Wilson, please," Cuddy said. But Wilson raised his fist and was about to connect it with House's jaw when House stopped him and forcefully wrestled him to the ground, pinning Wilson's arms behind his back.  
"Do you even know what Abigail _means_?" Wilson asked in angst. House and Cuddy remained silent, unsure of what to make of the question. Noticing this and becoming a little frustrated by their lack of response, Wilson continued. "It means 'Joy of the father.'"  
Sensing his guilt (and wondering how he knew that in the first place), Cuddy quickly reassured him. "Wilson, you couldn't have known. Please, try to calm down. It will all be okay."  
But Wilson would have none of it. "I can't be a father, especially not to a...to a...to a 16 year old girl! Christ!" He continued inhaling sharply and crying out of fear and anger.  
"Wilson. Wilson, for God's sakes!" House screamed in his face. "It's not your fault! Stop. Crying." After a minute Wilson wiped his face and nose on his sleeve and let House help him up. He then allowed himself to be led without protest down the hallway and outside the patient's room. House went in the room alone, and came back with April, Abigail's mother. Wilson's stomach turned to knots and became hot once he saw her. His palms wouldn't stop sweating no matter how much he rubbed them on his pants.  
"Does she know?" he asked House, who nodded and short yes. He then went to watch the encounter from the nurses' station. He couldn't miss this, of course.  
"James, I'm sorry," April began.  
"Don't give me that crap," Wilson retorted. House had never seen Wilson so angry as he had been this past half hour. "You could have told me! You _should _have told me! God, I can't believe this! This girl is my _child_, and now _I_ have to feel guilty for not being there for the past 16 years while someone else pretends to love her!" Wilson's mouth was moving faster than his brain, for if he were thinking he would never have said those things. Not out loud, anyway.  
"He didn't know!" she protested.  
"But you did!"  
"How could you not? She looks exactly like you!"  
"Well I'm sorry I couldn't make that comparison seeing as I'VE NEVER SEEN HER BEFORE IN MY LIFE!" Wilson was really livid now. Just then Abigail, dressed now in jeans and a Beatles shirt, came racing out of the room, coming between Wilson and April. Wilson was shocked by how much she looked like him. How could he not have noticed before, when he was doing the tests? His thoughts were interrupted by her yelling.  
"Bitch!" she screamed at her mother. "How could you not tell me?!"  
"Abigail, don't do this. You don't know what it's like."  
"What what's like? Being stupid enough to have unprotected sex?! No offense," she added hastily as she turned to Wilson. When she faced her mother again a small smile had formed on his lips. She was witty. "You were engaged!" And out of nowhere, Abigail started laughing. It was in small bursts at first, as she tried to hold it back, but she couldn't. She started cracking up.  
"She laughs when people shouldn't," her mom stated simply. "She even laughed when her great-grandmother died."  
"Oh, please, I barely even knew the woman. And it's not like I think it's funny," she said defensively, smile gone.  
"It's because you don't know how to deal with things!" House said loudly as he emerged from the nurses' station.  
"Maybe," Abigail responded. "It's one of those weird things people do." House grinned. He liked her. She was smart. Just then Cuddy called them all into her office. _So much for not becoming hospital news_, she thought, as there was no doubt people had heard and seen the fight Once inside, she told them she was going to make some calls to the state about the custody rights for Wilson, if he wanted them.  
"Yeah, I think I would," Wilson said, smiling shyly. He didn't know how April or Abigail would respond, but he had taken an instinctual liking to the girl. He wanted to make her feel better about what happend and make up for the time they had lost.

After the ordeal Abigail and her mother and father went home. The silence was so loud Abigail was sure she would go deaf. Wilson sat on House's couch watching monster trucks. It was the end to a very crazy week. "How did you know?" Wilson asked him.  
"Come on, Wilson, she looks exactly like you," House replied. Wilson grinned.


	10. Chapter 11

Abigail was sitting crosslegged on Cuddy's office couch reading one of her medical textbooks, waiting for Wilson to pick her up. She had always been somewhat interested in the field of medicine. Cuddy was stacking her papers and making sure everything would be in order when she came in tomorrow when Abigail broke the silence. "You like him," she stated simply.  
"Who?" Cuddy asked. She was beginning to dread the direction in which this conversation was headed.  
"You know, the guy with the cane. Friends with James. House?"  
"You call him James? You don't call him...Dad?"  
"OK, you're totally trying to avoid this, furthur proving my theory. But yes, I call him James. You guys are always arguing and stuff. And you both get really animated when you talk, leaning towards each other and stuff, and your eyes are always, like, sparkling when you're looking at him."  
Cuddy sighed. "Just because I argue with Dr. House does not mean I'm in love with him."  
"So you admit you're in love with him?"  
"I just said I wasn't."  
"Exactly. I didn't mention love, you did."  
_She really is like her father_, Cuddy thought. "He told you to say this, didn't he?"  
"Who?"  
"Wilson."  
"No." Cuddy just stared and Abigail returned it,delightful and childish curiosity in her chestnut eyes.

"You like her," Wilson told House.  
"No I don't," he replied quickly.  
Wilson, ignoring this denial, continued. "What happened when you talked to her?"  
"Nothing. I just asked her why she gave me the case and she gave m the usual spiel."  
"Oh, House," Wilson responded, sounding sad. "You really need to learn some conversational skills."  
"Hey, I have good conversation skills! I talk to you."  
"I meant with women."  
"Who needs to talk? I could just take their panties off like you do. That's probably what broke the ice with the ex-Mrs. Wilsons anyway."  
"Fine, House. Have it your way. I'm going to Cuddy's office to pick up Abigail, wanna come?"

"Seems like they're getting along," Cuddy told House after Wilson and Abigail had left.  
"Yeah, uh, this is good for Wilson. And for her, I guess. It's just, I guess Wilson can be lonely and this is a good thing," House said, his nerves on edge. He wasn't used to feeling like this at all. But Cuddy had always made him feel this way. It wasn't a bad feeling; in fact it was kind of exciting.  
"You're lonely too, House," Cuddy said. She hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way, but she had to say something.  
"Yeah," he said with a small grin. "So are you."  
"Yeah," she responded. "Well, I have to get going," she said finally as she made towards the door.  
"Don't," he said and grabbed her wrist hastily. He had to do this now. No one else was around, no one would see them or hear them.  
"House," she said confused as he took one large step closer to her, making her gasp. He felt a fire in his belly as he looked at her with the eyes of a man who's just found water in the desert. "Are you sure-" she started to say, but she was cut off by their lips meeting.  
"Don't try to rationalize," he murmured right before their lips touched again. Her lips were soft and he quickly explored her mouth with his tongue. He felt every weight lifted off him as they finally kissed, one of his hands along her jaw and the other on her back. Her hands moved up and down his back, to his hips, and up his arms. She clasped her fingers together around his neck. She felt so good, like she'd never felt before. He was amazing. They parted to catch their breath and quickly kissed again. He nuzzled her and watched her smile serenly with her eyes closed. She could picture his round blue eyes staring at her. Finally he closed his eyes, and it pained him to say it.  
"You should go," he whispered, breaking the stupor. She opened her eyes and they looked at her each other for a few seconds longer, then she slowly lowered herself from her tip toes and released her hold from the back of his neck. As she gathered her things and walked towards the door, he stood in the middle of the floor, cane at an angle. He made her feel just a little self-conscious, and no one had done that before. She left, and he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He finally released it and left himself.


	11. Chapter 12

"I make them good girls go baaaad. I make them good girls go, good girls go BAD!" Abigail tried to suppress her laughter, but resistance was futile. She burst out laughing, tears streaming from her face as she watched Wilson dance around singing Cobra Starship. He turned down the music and turned to face her, his slightly chubby cheeks turned almost crimson with embarrassment. Abigail was resting on the balls of her feet, arms wrapped around her stomach clutching her sides and she continued to laugh and fight for air. "I...uh...I'm just getting ready for an oncologists' meeting," Wilson said.  
"I wish I had a video camera!" she managed to say in between laughs. "Ooh owwww," she suddenly moaned, inhaling sharply.  
"What? What is it?" A spasm of pain shook her entire body.  
"It's the pain," she responded. "From the porphyria." Wilson really didn't want to leave her, but Cuddy would kill him if he didn't represent the hospital at this meeting. "I'll be fine. Just go." He knew he couldn't leave her, but he couldn't call Cuddy. He couldn't take her away from Rachel. _Oh boy_, he thought. There was only one other person he could call, and he really didn't want to.

House was asleep on the couch with Cuddy on top of him. Their breathing was slow and calm. *Brrring!* The ringing pierced through the still darkness of House's apartment. *Brring! Brring!* "Answer the phone, House," came Cuddy's sleepy voice.  
"OK, just go back to sleep," he said softly, stroking her hair. "Hello?" he answered tiredly.  
"House. It's Wilson. Listen. Abigail's having some pain thing from the porphyria. I need you to come over while I go to this meeting."  
"Sure thing." Wilson was surprised in a way, but House wouldn't let someone suffer alone that wasn't himself, especially if he thought the suffering was worth it. "I have to go Wilson's. Just try to sleep, I'll be back soon," he told Cuddy. He knew she probably wouldn't remember what he just told her so he left a note as well, then slowly slid out from underneath her, covered her with a blanket, and left the apartment.

Wilson had left the door unlocked so House could come in without Abigail having to get up to answer the door. When House walked in he saw Abigail laying on the couch on her stomach, face buried in a pillow. At first he thought she was asleep, but her eyes met his when he approached. She then indicated a small note on the table beside the couch and House took it. House, Give her half a Vicodin, nothing more. I'll be back as soon as I can. -Wilson House brought Abigail a glass of water and broke one of his vicodins in half. "Here," he said, holding out his hand, "take this." She obliged and he took two of his own and turned on the TV. "You like monster trucks?" he asked.  
"I don't know," she said.  
"There," he said, pointing to one of the trucks. "That's Gravedigger."  
"Cool."  
"Yup," he said, rubbing his thigh furiously. Abigail watched him intently for a few seconds while he focused on the TV, then spoke.  
"Stop it." His eyes followed hers down to his hands covering his right thigh.  
"It hurts," he responded tersely.  
"I know it does," his eyes met hers again. "But if you keep focusing on it it's not gonna stop."  
"How can I not focus on it? It ALWAYS hurts. Just because I want it to go away doesn't mean it will."  
"I know. So, what's so good about Gravedigger?"  
"Are you kidding me?" House then described Gravedigger's atributes and the other trucks' flaws while Abigail continued asking questions. Soon they were both commenting on the rally in front of them as if they were two sportscasters engaging in banter. Abigail finally fell quiet as she fell asleep. House got up to get a glass of water when he realized the pain had subsided substantially. He smiled. She was trying to help him. _Just like Wilson_, he thought.

When Wilson returned around midnight he found House sitting by the couch sleeping, one hand on Abigail's dark hair as she slept. He heard Wilson approach and woke up. "Thank you," Wilson whispered. House stood up to leave when Wilson told him he could stay on the couch as he picked Abigail up. She had muscle, but she wasn't too heavy. House looked back at him and Wilson gave him a look that said "Don't worry." He knew House couldn't help because of his leg. Abigail woke to the feeling of being carried and sighed. "Shh," Wilson said, stroking her hair. She put her legs around his torso to help him carry her and fell back asleep. She had been in so much pain. He put her in bed and, after seeing that House was back asleep, went to bed himself.  
The last thought that House had before he went to sleep was how good a team Wilson and Abigail seemed to make. He was caring, but not too mushy. She was her own person, but not filled with too much angst. He was glad for Wilson, hoping his friend could keep at least one woman in his life.


	12. Chapter 13

House woke up and saw Abigail quietly reading on the floor. "Wilson awake?" he asked. She shook her head no. "Thanks for last night, by the way." Abigail smiled.  
"Saw James dancing to Cobra Starship right before he called you. He looked ridiculous."  
"Loser," House replied, and stuck his tongue out to the side. Abigail chuckled quietly.

House left Wilson's and was intent on finding Cuddy. He regretted the time they spent apart the previous night, although he enjoyed hanging out with Wilson's kid, however strange that may sound. When he got to his apartment she wasn't there, so he decided to shower before he went over to her place. The hot water felt good after a long night, and he closed his eyes and felt the water hit his head and drip down his face, dripping off his chin and splashing on the floor around his feet. He wasn't in there long, and he was just rubbing a towel over his head when a knock came on his door. He opened it: Cuddy. He smiled and took her hand without a word. His hair was still wet and it made him look all the more appealing. Her smile turned into an intrigued grin as he sat them both at the piano, her on his left, and began to play. She didn't recognize the song, but then again she didn't know much classical music. His fingers drifted over the keys as he played Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude." It switched between soft and gentle and crescendos of passion. It was a beautiful piece, and he played it with a well of emotion.  
When he finished he was breathing heavily, as if playing had caused him a great effort. With that song he had revealed to her his passion for her. The way he felt calm and fired up and lusty and sensual all at the same time when he was around her. He was begging her to come to him, and she did, kissing him thirstily. They broke apart and Cuddy layed down on the piano bench while House hovered above her, his eyes and lips glistening. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, reaching her hand under the soft fabric to feel his skin still hot from the shower. "I don't think the bench is gonna be strong enough...." she suggested.

Wilson came, or rather stumbled, down the steps looking pale and clammy. He was sweating all over and he felt dizzy. "Is it hot in here? I'm really hot," he said. The way he sounded out of breath it would complete the picture of someone who had just participated in heavy physical activity. He then rushed to the bathroom and vomited. He came back out wiping his mouth on his hand, then stuck a thermometer under his tongue. Abigail watched the way he immediately took care of himself, tapping his foot impatiently while waiting for the thermometer to beep. "102.3," he said hurriedly, still sounding out of breath. He gulped two Tylenol and layed on the couch, his bones aching.  
"I'll get you a trashcan," Abigail said.  
"No, I think I'm go-," he choked as he gagged. Abigail put the trashcan at the foot of the couch and brushed his hair off of his forehead.  
"Lay back," she said softly but expertly. "It won't do you any good leaning over that thing." Wilson moved her arms away in protest as he wanted to throw up again, but nothing happened. He breathed in and out of his mouth heavily. "Close your mouth."  
"No," he said loudly, his eyes wide with fear. He blinked rapidly a few times and started to fall back on the couch.  
"James. James, look at me. Keep your eyes open. You have to keep your eyes open," she said forcefully. He obliged but sank to the floor on his knees, clutching the trash can and peeing off his shirt. A minute later he shivered as his sweat dried in the morning air, and she covered him with a blanket; it would be easier to take off and put back on as his temperature changed. She then grabbed the trashcan away from his weak grip. "You can just throw up on the floor then," she said as tears formed in his eyes and he spit. She knew that meant he would probably vomit again so she put the trashcan back and made him sit up on the couch, pushing his knees to his chest. He looked tired as he rested his cheek on his knees.  
Abigail then spotted the piano on the other side of the room. House had made Wilson buy it in case he ever wanted to play while he was there. She sat down on the bench and felt the keys under the pads of her fingers, then started to play. Originally, the song changed volume and intensity a number of times, but she wanted it to remain calm, so she changed it accordingly. Wilson sleepily recognized it as Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude." He gripped his legs tighter as he felt a wave of sickness, then drifted off into sleep.  
She knew he was asleep but she didn't stop playing. She loved the song, and thought maybe the calm nature of it was affecting his subconscious. When she finished after a few more minutes, she put pillows behind Wilson to support his back.

He awoke that night to see Abigail sitting beside him, rubbing his stomach in a circular motion. "How did you know...how to make me...feel better?" he asked, still half asleep.  
"Personal experience," she said, giving him a half smile. He reached over to her hand on his stomach and rested it there, smiling at her with happiness and a touch of wonder. He got up to take his temperature again and it was down to 99.1. She brought him some ice cubes to suck on and a little bit of rice to eat as they watched a Bones marathon on TV. Some might find it strange, or even hard to believe, but they enjoyed each other's company without the awkwardness of a parent-child relationship. They were both feeling it out and looking out for each other, and both of them were glad that there was no pressure for it to be anything more.

Cuddy rolled off of House and layed back, their bodies gleaming with sweat, and pulled the covers up as the evening air hit them. She then curled up next to House, resting her forehead on his chest as he turned to face her, and she closed her eyes. "I should play piano more often," he joked. She giggled lazily and stroked his waist lightly with her nails. He then put his arms around her back and pulled her tighter to him, as if he was protecting her, and gave her a long kiss on the forehead. His heart was filled with ecstasy, and its beating lulled her into a tired sleep. He rested his cheek on hers and fell asleep as well.

The next morning House strolled into the hospital and spotted Wilson looking over some charts at the nurses' station. "You look awful," House told him, half serious, half joking.  
"I had a terrible fever. I felt miserable. Abigail played piano for me to calm me down," Wilson told him as if he was in a bit of shock mixed with wonder and joy, like a child discovering something new. House was intrigued; he let his wonders about it become verbal.  
"What'd she play?" he asked, hoping Wilson would know the answer just to feed House's curiosity.  
"'Raindrop Prelude' by Chopin."  
"Huh. I played that for Cuddy last night." Wilson stopped in his tracks, a dumbfounded expression on his face, as House kept walking towards the elevator without looking back, not realizing the information he'd just subtextually spilled.


	13. Chapter 14

"So, how's the kid thing goin'?" House asked, chewed pieces of sandwich falling out of his mouth.  
"It's...good," Wilson said confidently. "I mean, we do whatever people...do. Watch TV, eat, talk." They both walked back to Wilson's office, finding Abigail sitting on the floor reading one of Wilson's textbooks. She had a thirst for learning and often hungrily read the medical books in House's, Cuddy's, and Wilson's offices.  
"Don't you have any friends?" House asked her when he spotted her engrossed in one of the books.  
"House," Wilson hissed.  
"Don't need any," Abigail replied, unphased. "Unlike most people, I'm not heavily influenced by American pop culture." House grinned. He was really starting to relate more and more to Abigail.  
"Abigail, why don't you get some lunch?" Wilson suggested.  
"Oh, do Daddy and Daddy have to talk about grown-up things?" she said sarcastically. She swiped the $10 bill Wilson was holding out for her. "Don't wear yourself out, James. It's only Monday," she called from beyond the threshold.  
"So, Wilson, what is it this time? Is Daddy having inappropriate thoughts about his little girl?"  
"Ew, House, no." He could be so disgustingly insensitive, but Wilson was so used to it by now that he only cringed internally at House's remarks. "You told me this morning that you played piano for Cuddy last night. Are you guys...?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.  
"I just scored my first hater," House said, avoiding answering the question directly.  
"Oh my God! You did! Or you are? Wait," Wilson babbled, unable to control his excitement.  
"Well, now that everyone's gonna find out in the next hour I guess we better keep doing it. Don't wanna disappoint. Plus I'd like to see Chase make some money. The pot's gone dry. On second thought I think he made a bet on how this kid thing is gonna turn out for you. My money's on your utter disappointment at her growing lack of respect." Just then Abigail returned and House took the opportunity to lift himself off of the couch and go see Cuddy, leaving Wilson no room to ask any more questions.

"House! How could you?" Cuddy asked as soon as he entered her office.  
"Now _that_ was a stupid question."  
"House how could you let Wilson find out about this?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low.  
"Wait...how did _you_ know he knew?"  
"He came to me asking 100 questions!" she shouted, annoyed at what seemed to be like a childish game of question and answer.  
_He went to Cuddy before me. Because he knew I wouldn't...and he acted like...Wilson played me!_ he thought. He was almost fuming. He then turned abruptly and walked out the door back to Wilson's office, ignoring Cuddy's repeated inquiries as to where he was going.

"What the hell, Wilson?" House asked loudly as opened the door.  
"I should go...." Abigail said.  
"No. You need to stay here and see how much of a liar your father is."  
"Oh, shut up House," Wilson said.  
"Wilson, I'm trying not to screw this up-"  
"You are?" He didn't care if he was interrupting House. House had little reason to be mad since he was always messing with Wilson's affairs, being totally rude in the process.  
"-and you come and nag like a freakin' puppy until you get what you want," House finished.  
"Look House-" Wilson started, but failed to continue as a knock made them all turn their heads towards the door. Wilson opened it to see Abigail's mother standing there. Abigail showed no emotion on seeing her mother on the outside, but on the inside she was enraged. She had enjoyed these past two weeks with James, and she could almost pretend like she had never lived with them. But she couldn't forget. Not yet.  
"Get up!" April snapped, looking at Abigail, who began to rise from the couch. House instinctively blocked her path with his cane and she understood. He never took his eyes off of April. He didn't want her to ruin this for Wilson. Wilson looked back at them both and Abigail winked at him. He quietly led April outside to talk it over, or so he thought. She began yelling about how this was nonsense, Abigail coming to the hospital with him, living with someone she barely knew.  
"I am her FATHER!" Wilson interjected angrily.  
"And I'M her mother!"  
"BARELY!" Wilson yelled. "You didn't even treat her like a daughter! She doesn't even want to be with you!"

Abigail was bent over on the couch, touching her face every five seconds, as she often did when experiencing something new and nerveracking. Not that her mother yelling was new, but she was still getting used to a father who defended her. House sat in Wilson's chair, touching everything on the desk and playing with it. "I hate her," Abigail said forcefully. "I hate that she thinks she owns everything. That she thinks she can dictate my life. She's always been like this. And I hate him, too."  
"Your fake dad," House stated. She nodded her head yes. "When I was twelve I realized my dad wasn't my real dad. I never told my real dad I was his son, but I told my dad about my suspicions. He didn't talk to me for an entire summer. That bastard hated me and I hated him right back."  
"Me and James...you finding out about it even after my case was solved. It's about you and your dad, isn't it?"  
"No. It was just another puzzle." At first. At first it was just another puzzle, which turned into a fix for House's own father-son demons. But it had become more than that. And Abigail knew that when she read his eyes and body language. He was glad he didn't need to say anything more. Wilson then reentered the room as House and Abigail heard April's heels clicking down the hall. Abigail and Wilson both stared at each other, chestnut meeting chestnut in a gaze that could have been its own conversation, then Wilson silently sat next to Abigail and put his arm around her. She leaned into him and he kissed the top of her head. She didn't want to ask if her mom would be coming back. She was afraid of the answer. Luckily, House took initiative.  
"She coming back? Because I'm gonna have to double my usual dose of Vicodin at _least_."Abigail laughed and Wilson responded,  
"I don't think so. I told her you were happy living with me, and that it was your choice."  
"Congratulations, Dr. Wilson," she said enthusiastically, pretending to hold a microphone as if she were the host of a game show. "You just won yourself a child," she said more softly.


	14. Chapter 15

A few months had gone by and soon it would be time for Abigail to start a new school year, and she was dreading every minute of it. "Why can't I just keep going to Friends? It's not that far."  
"You know that can't happen. I can't drive you there and no bus will take you there," Wilson responded. He was sad she would be leaving her friends and he didn't like seeing her unhappy and scared. It reminded him of when she first started living with him and her mother's objections. "I think you'll really like Princeton Day," he addd, trying to be supportive. Abigail just sighed loudly. She probably _would_ like it there once she got used to it, she just wished things were easier. But then again, where would the fun in life be if everything were easy? Challenges were among her favorite things, and not because she needed them to prove herself. No, she took on challenges mostly because she liked the fun in them. She was very much like House in that way, and they bonded with each other a lot.

One night in late August Wilson approached his front door hearing piano being played. This wasn't unusual as Abigail played frequently, but the sound was bluesy. The sound was...he opened the door...House. They were sitting on the bench together playing a four-hand duet. Her small hands looked comical next to his large ones, but the parts they were playing fit together nicely. House had been spending a lot more time over Wilson's, and Wilson and Abigail just figured it was to hang out. After all, House had admitted to Wilson that he found Abigail to be intellectual and healthily curious, something he always admired in a person. It was true that House was there to hang out, but he made his visits more frequently for a different reason.

"House, you're two hours late. I was getting worried," Cuddy said as House walked through the door, looking distracted.  
"Yeah, I was at Wilson's," he replied.  
"Well, at least you weren't at a bar," she said, sounding disappointed that he always made excuses.  
"What?" he said. He wanted an argument. He didn't know how to get his real feelings out other than by revealing them during a fight.  
"You're always over there."  
"You've never minded that before," he said back with a calm tone.  
She sighed. "You never spent so much time over there before. You're avoiding me. House, I will not let you push me away."  
"You can't stop me. Eventually I'll push you so far you'll fall off the edge. It's only a matter of time," he said despondently.  
"Why, House? Why are you doing this?" she asked, demanding an answer with her tone of voice.  
"You don't want to know." _No, you just don't want to tell her because it scares you_, he thought.  
"Yes, I do, House."  
"Please, stop," he said, raising his voice a little.  
"House! _Why_ are you _doing_ this?!" she repeated.  
"BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!" he yelled, his eyes getting wider. "I'll just hurt you," he said quieter. He finally looked up at her, but what he saw wasn't surprise or softening, it was anger.  
"Yeah? Well I'm not in love with _you_. Now you know how it feels," she said coldly. He looked hurt, and she knew she should stop but she continued. "Pushing someone away because you love them is the stupidest thing someone could ever do, and that's why you'll end up alone. You wanna push me away? Fine. I'll push you back. Get out, House." He stood there for a few seconds, not believing what he'd just heard. She always forgave him, was always there for him. But now she was pushing him away. It didn't feel good at all. He was broken from his thoughts by her voice. "Get. Out."


	15. Chapter 16

After House left Cuddy crawled right into bed, not bothering to change. She shouldn't have said that to him. God, what was she thinking? Of course she loved him! She'd wanted him to tell her that for so long, and the minute he did she kicked him to the curb. She silently started sobbing and, her face hot and sticky with tears and her head pounding, fell into a fitful sleep.

House rode back to his apartment on his motorcycle, barely registering the cool feeling of the night air. In fact, when he got back to his apartment, he didn't remember anything about the ride. Every thought was about Cuddy. He was so confused that she had pushed him away like that. The only other person to do that was Wilson, and he'd come back. But Cuddy was different. He didn't know if he'd ever get her back.

The next day House found Wilson and Abigail in Wilson's office. "Need some help," House said. Wilson started to get up, but House spoke again. "Not from you," he said. "I'm tired of you lecturing me. It's a snooze fest. Kid! Come with me."  
"How is she going to help? She's not a doctor and you know you can't show your files to people," Wilson said, sounding accusatory, which is exactly why House didn't want his advice.  
"Who said this was about a patient?" he said smartly. He then turned his attention to Abigail. "Come on, walk with me."  
"Don't walk too fast it makes him feel bad," Wilson snarked.  
"See, this is why no one likes your advice," House retorted.

House and Abigail walked to the park and sat on top of one of the picnic tables. House loved to watch the people running and socialzing; this was one of his favorite places to think. "Cuddy...doesn't love me," he said.  
"Yet I'm assuming you love her?" She didn't really need to ask though. She already knew. "You tell her that?" She then realized how dumb that sounded since he certainly wasn't the type of person to profess his love for anyone except himself, but he surprised her with his answer.  
"Yes. She told me she didn't love me and that now I know how it feels. She said I'm stupid for pushing her away and that she was gonna push back."  
"Good for her," Abigail replied matter-of-factly.  
"What? You're supposed to be on _my_ side," he said back.  
She blew air out of her nose then answered. "This will probably never happen, but you need to realize how much of an investment she's made in you. I think the last thing she wants to do is push you back, but she needs to. If you love her, you have to make a sacrifice. She's been making tons of them all these years, House." He looked defeated. "That's how I know she loves you." He smiled and looked at her, resting a hand on her knee and was again entertained by her tenacity. "Love isn't always enough though."  
"Kill joy," he smirked. She laughed a little and gave him a half-smile.  
"I just don't know what to do," he said after a pause, both of them staring at the ducks in the pond. "Obviously an apology isn't going to be enough."  
Suddenly an idea struck her. She grinned knowing how perfect it would be for House. "How do you feel about Supertramp?" she asked.


	16. Chapter 17

That night Wilson dropped Abigail off at House's apartment. He had been notified of their plan and of course couldn't have been happier. Cuddy was barely speaking to House, except when absolutely necessary at the hospital, so there was no risk of her showing up at his apartment and ruining the surprise Abigail had planned. "Uh, OK, so, should we get started?" House asked. Abigail said nothing but connected her iPod to his speakers. "Umm."  
"Shh," she said with a finger to her lips, her eyes alight. For a little over four minutes they sat in silence, Abigail studying House's face and reaction. Finally there was quiet.  
"What was that for? How will this help me?" he asked, a little annoyed.  
"When I was in Mexico I learned about a Mexican tradition of wooing the girl you liked. You would stand outside her window, sometimes with a band, and play her a love song. When the song was over she would turn on the light and see you. It was all very romantic," she answered.  
"So that's what I'm doing. And that's the song we're playing?"  
"The song _you're_ playing. And yes." House paused a moment and a smile appeared.  
"You're good, kid," he said. "You're really good."

Abigail already knew how to play the song but she thought it would be better to let House figure it out on his own, that way he could win Cuddy back all by himself. Besides, he had a fantastic ear. He would have no problem.

At the hospital on Friday Wilson informed House that he and Cuddy had a board meeting at 3 o'clock, so he could check her schedule then. At 3:10 he entered her office and hacked into her computer, scanning her schedule for tonight's plans. Nothing. Score. So he'd do it tonight, just as he had hoped. Yet he was a little nervous. What if she didn't like it? What if it didn't work? _Get a hold of yourself!_ he thought. _This isn't how you think!_ Geez, she was really driving him crazy. He had been feeling like a gaping hole had eaten its way through his heart in the past week, and it was becoming harder to ignore.

That night Wilson picked House up and drove him to Cuddy's. House got his guitar out of the back, hoping not to make too much noise. He then positioned himself on Cuddy's front lawn and took a deep breath. He strummed the first chords. Cuddy heard it, but she ignored it. Maybe it was her imagination. Then she heard them again, louder this time. House then got into the beat, his shoulders moving in rhythm and his left foot tapping to keep time. Wilson had stayed just to make sure House would go through with it, then peeled away when he started singing.  
"_Give a little bit. Give a little bit of your love to me."_ Cuddy came over to the window and watched as the silhouetted figure strummed and sang. Of course she recognized him, and she fought with her entire being to remain annoyed. She could not let him win her over this easy. _"I'll give a little bit. I'll give a little bit of my love to you,"_ he continued. He caught her eye and started singing louder, his eyes searching hers for relief from his own heartache.

_"There's so much that we need to share, so send a smile, and show you care.__  
__I'll give a little bit. I'll give a little bit of my life for you.__  
__So give a little bit. Oh give a little bit of your time to me.__  
__See the man with the lonely eyes, oh take his hand, you'll be surprised."_

His fingers danced over the frets as he played the sax solo on guitar. She was too shocked to feel anything yet. She could only watch in wonder so far as House serenaded her.

_"Give a little bit. Oh give a little bit of your love to me.__  
__I'll give a little bit. I'll give a little bit of my life for you.__  
__Now's the time that we need to share, so find yourself, we're all the way back home.__  
__Oh, goin' home.__  
__Don't cha need, don't cha need to feel at home?__  
__Oh, yeah, we gotta see.__  
__Sing it tonight."_

He then strummed the last few chords, and the song ended beautifully, the notes ringing clearly through the night sky and hitting her with force. He saw her move away from the window and he frowned a bit, but he then looked up and noticed her standing in the doorway. He couldn't see her face from there, she was just a beautiful outline, but he was sure she was smiling. At least he hoped so. He took the guitar from around his upper body and carried it in his left hand, supporting his thigh with his right as he limped toward her. By the time he got to her doorstep the wait was almost unbearable. She grabbed the lapel of his jacket while he put his right hand on her back and pulled her as close as he could, their lips pushing together hard. She then walked backwards, leading him inside as held the guitar out with his left hand, careful not to hit it on the doorframe.


	17. Chapter 18

House backed Cuddy up to the wall and pushed himself against her. "Fuck me," she whispered.  
"No," he mumbled back after a slight pause, feeling her nails scratching his skin lightly. She pushed him away a little bit and looked at him confused. "I want to make love to you," he clarified. And with that they walked in a tangle towards her bedroom.

"What are you up to?" Wilson said casually as he strolled through the door.  
"What do you care?" Abigail asked excitedly. "How was it?"  
"Well, he went through with it," Wilson said in his House-hopeful voice.  
"You didn't stay?"  
"What? No!"  
"Eh. I would've stayed."  
"Yeah, well. I'd rather _not_ have the image of House and Cuddy making out imprinted in my mind," Wilson replied, true to form. Abigail just shrugged and went back to the piano.

About a minute later a knock came on the door. Wilson opened it, signed for the package, and was just about to close the door when the delivery man interrupted him. "You know, your kid's pretty good."  
"Um, thank you," Wilson said sincerely, rubbing the back of his neck.  
"She should play for people. I know this program...here, here's the number," he said, scribbling something quickly on a piece of paper.  
"OK," Wilson said, taking it hesitantly. "Thanks again."  
"No problem!" the man said happily as he left the doorstep.

The next morning Wilson called the number and they told him Abigail could audition in an hour. "Come on," he said to her as he hung up the phone.  
"What? Where are we going?" she asked.  
"You have an audition."

"I don't even have any music!" she argued as they parked and approached the front of the building.  
"God knows you don't even look at music when you play. Now go," he said, pushing her through the revolving doors of the building.

An older woman greeted them and told Wilson he could wait in the lobby. She then guided Abigail into a small room where the woman sat down next to her. "Where's your music?" asked the woman.  
"I, um, don't have any," Abigail replied, silently cursing herself for saying "um."  
"OK, well you need to play two classical pieces. Your choice," the woman told her.  
"Alright. I'll play...'Fur Elise' and...'Raindrop Prelude.'" The woman nodded and Abigail put her fingers on the keys lightly.

Wilson sat nervously in the chair, his right leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. He couldn't hear anything, which was making it worse. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Abigail walked downstairs looking pensive and distracted. "Well?" Wilson asked.  
"Huh?"  
"What did she say?"  
"Oh. She said I made it and that I could play at this solo thing tomorrow. Just what I played for her today," she replied, handing him a slip of paper with all the information. Wilson hugged her; he couldn't have been prouder.

House, Cuddy, and Wilson walked into the large theater and took their seats. "Geez," House mumbled. I didn't get this much attention when I played." About ten minutes later the curtain went up. A few kids played their songs, and then Abigail was up. House closed his eyes at hearing the first notes of 'Fur Elise.' He loved this song, the way the tempo and feel changed. Everyone clapped when it was over, and 'Raindrop Prelude' was next. Cuddy gave House a knowing glance and House looked thoroughly amused as Wilson tried not to make eye contact with him. When it was over many people stood and cheered, and Wilson even let out a whistle.

Wilson invited House and Cuddy over to his place afterwards. "I'm just gonna take a shower," Abigail said. House noticed she was sweating, but he didn't want to worry Wilson since it was probably just because of the heat from the stage. But then again, that was over a half hour ago....

A little over twenty minutes had gone by when House suddenly got up and starting making his way over to the stairs. "House, what are you doing?" Cuddy asked as House started to climb them. It hurt, but he had to. Luckily Wilson didn't have that many stairs.  
"Something's wrong," he grunted. Wilson and Cuddy quickly followed him up the steps and towards the bathroom. "I noticed it when she was sweating," House continued.  
"Stay here," Cuddy told the other two as they approached the bathroom. She pushed the door open and expected the room to be steamy, but it wasn't. "Abigail?" she asked as she opened the shower curtain. The girl was barely awake and her face and neck were flushed. "Oh my God."  
"I was so hot," she quietly moaned as Cuddy stuck her hand in the shower's spray, realizing that the water was freezing. Abigail swallowed hard before continuing. "Give me my clothes," she said, holding out her hand briefly before her arm fell. She got dressed even though her body ached.  
"Wilson!" Cuddy called when she was done, and he came in quickly, followed by House. The image almost made House cry out: Cuddy was sitting in the shower holding Abigail while the water hit them. "She said she was hot," Cuddy said, looking to be on the verge of tears. She looked almost exactly like she did when she held the little girl in the shower at the hospital. When House told her she'd suck as a mother. When he kissed her and lost sight of everything. Wilson practially jumped in the shower, the water soaking him and flattening his hair against his head, making him look like a teenage boy.  
"Thank you, Cuddy," he said genuinely as he scooped Abigail up.  
"Dad?" she questioned wearily.  
Wilson was startled but quickly recovered. "It's OK," he whispered, grabbing a towel and drying her off.  
"House, what do we do?" Cuddy asked, knowing only House could be logical about this.

House took her temperature and felt her head and the back of her neck. She was burning despite the cold water and it looked as if she could barely move as Wilson layed her down on the couch. "Get a tub of cold water, a towel, and maybe some NyQuil," House ordered. While he waited he held Abigail's hand, which was burning.


	18. Chapter 19

Cuddy returned with a large tub of water and some hand towels and Wilson with the appropriate dosage of NyQuil. Cuddy looked at House and he got up, following her to the guest bedroom as Wilson took his seat on the floor by the couch.

House felt guilt wash over him with a force. But he didn't want to tell her now. Anyway, he was tired. He would just wait.

Abigail awoke and saw Wilson's next to her, slumped over as if sleeping. "Daddy," she whimpered as she threw her arms around his neck. "Make it go away," she cried. Abigail had always hated being sick, probably more than anyone she knew. She was sick a lot due to the porphyria, and it was so debilitating for her. The nausea made her feel scared, and the muscle cramps and aches kept her from moving.  
"I know, sweetheart," Wilson replied, rubbing her back to comfort her. It scared Wilson a little to see her sick. Of course she was OK, and he knew that as a doctor, but it seemed to frighten her. She was usually a confident person. She coughed and Wilson gave her a glass of water, and eventually she fell back asleep.

About an hour later House trudged over to the couch and saw Wilson bent over on the floor sleeping and shook his friend's shoulder. They exchanged glances and Wilson patted House on the back as he made his way to his bedroom. House sat by the couch and rubbed his thigh while dabbing Abigail's forehead and neck with a cold towel. "Stop it, House," Abigail commented knowingly, albeit weakly.  
"This is helping you," House said.  
"No, I mean stop rubbing your thigh," she replied.  
"You can't possibly know if I'm rubbing my thigh. Your eyes aren't even open."  
"You're using your left hand to hold the towel."  
"Again, your eyes aren't even open," House said in the same tone he used when he talked to a patient in the clinic.  
"I can feel your arm across my body, which means you're reaching across, which means you're using your left hand, and the only reason you'd be doing that is because you're using your right hand to rub your thigh," she explained. House exhaled loudly. He then switched the towel to his right hand, dipping it in the water and slightly lifting her head to put it under her neck. She then opened on eye to look at him. He looked tired and slightly defeated.  
"You wanna put the TV on or something?" she asked him, knowing he probably would. Halfway through _Bruce Almighty_ Abigail fell asleep, and when it was over House checked her temperature, noticed it was down, and went back to the guest room.

Cuddy was awake when he sauntered through the door. "How is she?"  
"Her fever went down but hasn't broken yet. She'll be fine, though." Cuddy smiled, but House looked worried and distracted.  
"House?" she asked, knowing something was wrong and hoping he would talk about it. House crawled carefully into bed next to her, sitting so he faced her.  
"I'm sorry," he choked. She put her right hand on his cheek and looked at him in the eyes. They stared in silence for a minute before she saw his bottom lip quiver and the tears drip from his eyes. He rested his face on her collarbone and let out a few short sobs. She felt his shoulders bounce up and down a few times as he tried to control himself.  
"Sorry about what?" she questioned tenderly.  
He choked out a few more sobs before continuing. "The shower...and the girl...and tonight...." He could feel her hands on his back and he pulled away to look at her so she would know he was sincere. "Cuddy, I know you'll probably never forgive me for what I said, but seeing you tonight in that shower...." He trailed off again while he broke down into tears burying his face in her neck as she cradled him.  
"It's OK, House. I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago," she said as she pushed him back so he could look in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed her in. She rocked him slowly, feeling safe and loved in his strong arms, before he fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 20

House woke up with sore arms. His face was flat on his pillow and he felt something under him. He slowly and painfully rose up higher onto his elbows to see Cuddy sleeping under him. His hands were gripping the back of her shirt tightly and he had been resting on his elbows all night to avoid crushing her. He removed his hands and flexed his fingers, wincing slightly at their refusal to compromise. Cuddy felt a chill as House's body moved away from her, and she opened her eyes to see House's face about a foot from hers, him looking quizically at his right hand. She let out a small laugh. "Hey," he said playfully, "I went through a night of pain to avoid crushing you. Don't laugh at the crippled cripple."  
"Thank you," she said, and kissed him quickly on the lips.

A little while later House went down the hall to see Abigail sitting up on the couch, staring at the ground. He went up to her and tilted her head. "Your fever's gona down a lot. Just take some Tylenol and you'll be alright," he said.  
"Thanks," she replied. She seemed to be considering a matter deeply. Cuddy wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, but House stopped her with a glance, his eyes piercing with startling knowledge of something deeper. He knew she wasn't depressed, or even sad. She was just thinking. He knew what it was like to be new to a place, and to be different on top of it. She was smart and musically talented, as was he, and he knew she sometimes just probably needed to process things, just like him. He didn't even want to interrupt her, but he knew he had to check on her or he'd be annoyed all day. Wilson was in the shower, so House decided he would just talk to him later at the hospital.  
"Tell Wilson thanks," he said.  
"Sure," she replied, half aware of the request.

In the car, Cuddy turned to House with a worried look. "House, what's wrong with her?"  
"She's just tired," he said, running a hand over his face.  
"That's not all, House. Don't try to hide from me. Did something happen?"  
"No, Cuddy, Jesus. She's just thinking that's all." Usually he would insult her after this, but he, too, was thinking about his own childhood....

------------------------------------  
A week later and it was Abigail's first day of school. She graoned internally as she thought about how hard people thought they had to try when no one was really paying attention anyway. "Well, you know, but, I'll probably be home late," Wilson said as she was getting ready to leave.  
"Yeah, I know, it's OK. I can take care of myself," she said, no hint of disappointment or anger in her voice. She gave him a hug, resting her cheek on his torso, and he stroked her hair. He had been doing that to help her feel at ease, and it seemed to work pretty well. "See ya," she said in her suburb-of-Philadelphia accent as she hopped down the front steps towards the bus.

She had been getting through her classes alright, some people had shown her around, and it finally came time for lunch. She knew she should try to sit with some people and make more friends, but she hated the cafeteria. It was such a confusing place, each table's location having a meaning equal and somehow parallel to the meaning of the people that sat there. She just decided to go to the band room and eat lunch on the piano bench.  
She approached the door and heard string music wafting out, the notes seeming to touch every part of her body lightly. _Crap_, she thought, _there are probably people in there_. She opened the door anyway and found herself looking at the back of a girl with black Asian hair playing the violin. She was wearing a black shirt and dark jeans, and she hadn't noticed Abigail coming in. Abigail quietly sat down on the bench and started eating her sandwich, intently watching the violin girl. After another minute the girl stopped and held the violin under her chin as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She saw Abigail out of the corner of her eye and jumped. "Sorry," Abigail said.  
"No, no, it's OK," the girl replied. "I'm actually kind of embarrassed." She had a soft, relaxing voice.  
"You're really good," Abigail observed awkwardly.  
"Thank you. I'm Iris."  
"Abigail," she said before taking another bite of her sandwich. She was beginning to feel calmer and more confident now.  
"Have I seen you before?" Iris asked, waling over to the piano.  
"I don't know. It's possible."  
"OH wait," she breathed, her eyes rolling to look at the ceiling before focusing back on Abigail, whose eyebrows were lifted in intrigued anticipation. "Are you in that program? The one at Jacob's Music Center?"  
"Yeah," Abigail said smiling a little.  
"I saw you there. Sorry if that seems totally weird."  
"No, it's cool. Why are you eating lunch in here?"  
"I come here to practice," Iris replied. "Plus, I kind of hate the cafeteria."  
"Me too," Abigail said, giving Iris a slight nod. _Well, I might as well go for it,_ Abigail thought. "So...you wanna hang out some time? I don't know, really," she said shyly. She wished House were there. But then again, she couldn't have a cranky doctor as her only friend.  
"Sure, how about this weekend?"


	20. Chapter 21

Abigail let herself in at a quarter to four and started on her homework. She was happy she had made a few new friends, although she missed her friends from her old school desperately. Once she was done she decided to watch TV. There was a monster truck rerun on, so she thought she would watch to maybe learn more about it. It would be something else she and House had in common. She made dinner for herself (spaghetti, her personal favorite), took a shower, and went to bed.  
Wilson didn't come home until around 11, and Abigail was already asleep. He would've liked to creep into her room to say goodnight, but he didn't want to wake her up or invade her privacy. He thought back on how much he hated when his parents did that when he was a kid. Even though it had been a few months, they were still feeling things out with each other, learning how to live together. Wilson enjoyed it. He loved watching her be whatever she wanted to be. He fell asleep thinking about all the things he could look forward to.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
On Saturday Abigail made her way to Iris' house. She found out she lived only a few blocks away so she rode her bike there. She rang the doorbell and was greeted by Iris' mother, a woman who looked as if she was of Pacific Islander descent, not exactly Asian like Iris.  
"Hey!" Iris said.  
"Hey what's up?"  
"I'll show you my room, come on." They were sitting on Iris' bed while Abigail admired the room. Three of the walls were purple, and one was black and had been splatterpainted.  
"That's so cool," Abigail had remarked. The bed was big, bigger than Abigail's, with purple sheets. Iris had a desk that reminded Abigail of her own: papers and CDs covering the surface, the rest covered by a laotop and a printer. Their conversation was interrupted by a boy of about four running into the room brandishing a model airplane, making airplane noises as he ran around.  
"Nanook, get out!" Iris yelled. The boy then ran off, unphased.  
"Nanook? Isn't that, like, a polar bear?" Abigail asked. It was certainly strange to name a child that. But then again, everyone had crazy names these days.  
"Yeah. That's not his real name though. My mom's of Innuit descent, and Nanook is an Innuit thing."  
"Yeah, I read about it once," Abigail replied. She thought it was cute. He certainly reminded her of a bear in that he seemed curious and playful. Just then there was a knock on the door and a man, who Abigail guessed was Iris' father, entered. They greeted and he said something to Iris in another language. They had a quick conversation and he left.  
"That was my dad."  
"I guessed as much. What language was that?" Abigail had always been interested in other cultures. Most of her friends at her old school were the children of immigrants.  
"Korean. My dad is from North Korea."  
"Jeez."  
"Yeah. The government was looking for him for something he'd done, I'm not exactly sure what. Anyway, he escaped to China and then came here."  
"Wow. You think they're still looking for him?" Abigail didn't want to scare her, but it was a legitimate question.  
"He worries about it sometimes, but I doubt it." Iris was debating whether to ask Abigail the one question she'd been thinking of since they met a few days prior. Abigail seemed mature and...well, she couldn't think of the word for it. She was different. Not in a bad way, though. Just in a..._different_ way. "Why did you move here?" She held her breath waiting for the answer. She felt stupid being so nervous.  
"Um, well, it's a long story," Abigail offered. "You'd probably be bored."  
"It's OK if you don't want to talk about it."  
"No, I...well...I was admitted to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," she began. "While I was there...one of the doctors...I found out he was my dad."  
Iris' eyes got wide. "No way. That's pretty cool."  
"Yeah. So I moved up here and started living with him."  
"You like it?"  
Abigail nodded her approval. "I didn't like living with my parents. They were judgmental and pressuring."  
"That's kind of like my dad. He expects me to do so well. He doesn't even put any pressure on my brother. I mean, I know he's young, but my dad is always saying how he didn't come to this country for nothing, that I can't waste my opportunities."  
"That's parents," Abigail said.

On Sunday Abigail was spending the day at the hospital. Cuddy didn't even seem to mind. She'd seemed just a bit preoccupied lately. Abigail missed being there more, but at least she had the weekends. She was sitting in Wilson's office watching him sign papers. "Come on," Wilson said, standing up with a file in hand. "I'll drop this off at Cuddy's office, then we can pick up House and eat."  
The lights were off in Cuddy's office, so Wilson assumed she had gone to lunch. He opened the door to leave the file on her desk and stopped dead, Abigail at his side.  
"Holy shit," Abigail blurted. House has his hands on Cuddy's hips and hers were up under his shirt as they made out in the middle of her office. Upon hearing Abigail's remark they broke apart, Cuddy smoothing out her skirt and House wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  
"I was just...." Wilson started, unable to continue, holding the file limply in his left hand.  
"Thank you, Dr. Wilson," Cuddy said professionally as she took it from him. "I'll get back to you shortly."  
"T-take-take your time," Wilson stammered. His eyes were wide as he looked at House as if to say "Explanation?" House winked at Cuddy, sighed, and headed out the door, a confused Wilson and an amused Abigail lagging behind him.


	21. Chapter 22

House was shoving Wilson's fries into his mouth, Wilson was trying to scarf down his egg salad sandwich before House got any of it, and Abigail was looking for the explanation to what she just saw in her macaroni and cheese. "So," Wilson said, succesfully having downed half his sandwich and taking a much-needed breath. House didn't look up. "You and Cuddy are offically...."  
"Romantically linked at the crotch," House provided. "Yes we are."  
"_Finally_!" Abigail said, rolling her eyes. House and Wilson raised their eyebrows. "It was really obvious!" she defended. House couldn't help smiling.  
Wilson had a huge grin on his face that showed practically all of his teeth. "You love her." Abigail blushed at this semi-awkward observation. House pointed a fry at Wilson, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down, thinking, then opened his mouth again. He was about to say something when Cuddy arrived at their table. Wilson knew House would be thankful for the interruption, but he was pretty sure House's lack of a well-timed, witty remark was evidence enough.  
"Can we talk?" she asked. Wilson stood up, pushing back his chair. "No. Her," she said, pointing at Abigail. The two walked down the hall together, leaving House wanting to follow and Wilson embarrassed.

Abigail was sitting on the couch with Cuddy in her office feeling slightly uncomfortable. She kept touching her face and fidgeting with her fingers. "I know it may seem ridiculous to ask you this..." Cuddy started. _I must be crazy asking this type of advice from a 16-year-old girl_, she thought. "I've been fighting with myself for days because I'm not sure what to do...."  
"Can't help ya if ya don't tell me," Abigail said pointedly.  
"You're right," Cuddy sighed. "I...love House."  
"Duh!" Abigail exclaimed, waving her hands.  
"No, I mean, I want to tell him that."  
"And you're afraid he doesn't love you back."  
"No, I mean, I think he does, but I don't want to scare him. If he runs away from this...from me...he'll never come back."  
"I get you. But I think you should just tell him. He'll probably figure out you're hiding something. You've seemed pretty preoccupied lately." Abigail bit her bottom lip. "He needs you to trust him. I know you do, but he needs to know for sure. Not telling him would be a mistake."  
"But what if he runs away?"  
"He runs. You can't control that. For all the bossing and controling you do here, you can't control the way he feels. Free will is powerful, and House has a shit load of free will."  
"That's why I love him," Cuddy said, grinning shyly.  
"That's why you need to _tell him_," Abigail stressed.  
"OK," Cuddy said. "I will. Thank you."

House arrived at Cuddy's shortly after 7:00. He plopped down on her couch with a huge sandwich and a medical magazine. Cuddy paced nervously in the kitchen. She knew she should tell him. It wasn't like he didn't already know, he just needed confirmation, like Abigail said. He loved her too, he had said it with that song and the "escapades" following it. She worked up her nerve and went out to her living room. Sitting on the couh next to him, she chewed the inside of her cheek. House looked up and ran his long fingers through her hair. The feeling of his fingers on her scalp made her shiver. "House, I need to tell you...I...." House encouraged her with the look in his eyes. "I love you," she breathed quickly, but she didn'r have time to inhale as House's lips caught hers in a pleasant and passionate kiss.  
"_Finally!_" he murmed against her lips, feeling very relieved. As secure as he seemed, for a second he was afraid she was going to tell him to get lost. She laughed and pulled him closer, and he felt her quickly climb onto his lap, her hands running through his hair. He groaned as her pelvis slammed into his, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bedroom, stumbling backwards as he sucked the skin above her collarbone. She pulled him down onto the bed and ripped off his jeans, eager to get to him. "I love it when you're feisty," he growled above her as he shoved himself inside of her. She groaned and pulled him down to her, unable to catch her breath as his movements were quick and forceful.  
"Oh, House!" she screamed as she surrendered to him. He moaned on hearing his name and let go as well. She kissed his face as he looked down at her, sweating from his effort.

House woke up around three o'clock and quickly got dressed. He thought about leaving a note, but he didn't know what to say. Anyway, it felt more natural to just go, like he always did. It was with great consternation that House unlocked his front door and dragged his feet into his apartment.


	22. Chapter 23

He couldn't sit still. He paced, leg aching, he drank, throat burning. He had to get out of there, so he went the one place he knew he would always be welcome: Wilson's. A thousand thoughts were running through his mind as he rang the doorbell and stood on the step waiting for him. _I am such an idiot_, he thought as Wilson opened the door.  
"House?" he answered drowsily, rubbing his eyes like four-year-old would. House just walked in without an answer. Obviously it was him. "House what are you doing here? It's..." Wilson checked the clock by the TV "three in the morning. What are you doing here?"  
"Cuddy and I made up," he said tactfully.  
"That's great. Now get out," Wilson suggested.  
"That's no way to treat a friend, Wilson."  
"House, coming to someone's home at three am is no one to treat a friend either. I'm sorry if I'm a little tired."  
"Wilson, Cuddy and I slept together-"  
"House, please!" Wilson begged, cutting House off.  
House sighed in impatience. "-but I left." Wilson led House over to the couch and they both sat down.  
"Without telling her?" Wilson scolded.  
"Yes."  
"Why?" Just then Abigail walked downstairs, rubbing her eyes in the same way as Wilson.  
"Oh my God, really, House? What are you doing here?"  
"Sounds like someone's PMSing." Abigail just slumped down on the couch, resting her upper body on Wilson.  
"House left Cuddy's after he...." Wilson started.  
"Yeah, I get it," Abigail said.  
"Hi! Can we focus on _me_?" House asked.  
"OK, House, this has got to stop. This back and forth between you and Cuddy is absolutely ridiculous."  
"Yeah, OK, lecture, great, why don't we just ask him why he left?" Abigail asked impatiently.  
"I like her," House said, smirking.  
"Just get to the point!" Abigail yelled. "I'm tired!"  
House sighed. "I left because...because I'm scared, alright? I love Cuddy, and she loves me, but I am scared to death about this. I don't want to screw it up. I don't want to make a mistake."  
"House, you _will_ make a mistake. You'll make mistakes, plural. But so will she. So does everyone," Wilson said. House still looked skeptical. "But you won't screw up." Abigail had fallen asleep against Wison, and he moved her onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.  
"How do you know?" House asked.  
Wilson spoke softly. "House, you are...you are insufferable. But somehow Cuddy...she...suffers you, if...that...makes any sense," Wilson said, his face scrunched up as he tried to make sense of his own words of encouragement. "Please, just go back to her place, _honestly_ explain everything, and for God's sakes don't come here at three am unless it's an actual emergency." Wilson knew it would sound lame but he said it anyway: "It's a school night."  
"Dude, that was so lame," House said as he went to the door. He put his hand on the knob, then let go and turned back. "Thanks. Thank you," he whispered.  
Wilson exhaled through his nose. "You're welcome, House. Goodnight."  
"Goodnight."

House got back to Cuddy's at 3:30 and slipped quietly into bed next to her sleeping body, which was curled into a slight ball. "Mmm," she sighed as she turned over into his warm body. She sat up, slightly alarmed. "Where were you?"  
"Wilson's."  
"What? Why? Are you alright?" she asked softly, stroking his cheek with her palm.  
_God, she's too nice to me_, House thought. "Yeah, I just needed some advice."  
"At 3:30 in the morning?"  
"It was urgent," House said, smiling at her pre-dawn state. Cuddy smiled back and lightly tugged his shirt. He took the hint and laid down with her, both of them falling asleep in the warm cocoon their bodies had created.


	23. Chapter 24

About a month and a half after school started it was almost Abigail's birthday. She was hoping Wilson wouldn't find out, but he did. It wasn't that she didn't want to celebrate, she did, but she knew Wilson would make a big deal out of it. "So...what do you want for your birthday?" Wilson asked casually as Abigail walked downstairs.  
"How did you even find out about it?" she asked incredulously.  
"How do you think?"  
House. "How did _he_ know?"  
"How should I know?" Abigail groaned.

Later that day Wilson went to the clinic in search of House. He knew House didn't have case, and he wanted to rule out the clinic before checking his usual hideouts. The nurse informed him that House was in Exam Room One. Wilson knocked. "Exam going on!" House yelled through the door.  
"It's me," Wilson said back.  
"OK come in but hurry up. The commercial break is almost over." Wilson walked in and proceeded to watch _General Hospital_ with House on the small, portable TV House brought to the hospital. "She's about to tell him that's it is NOT, in fact, his baby," House said, pointing at the tiny screen.  
"Huh," Wilson responded, not wanting to ask too many questions for fear of annoying House. The episode was over and Wilson immediately started in. "How did you know about Abigail's birthday? I mean thanks for telling me, she wouldn't have, but-"  
"I looked in her file," he said.  
"Spoken like the true House," Wilson responded. "I can't say I'm surprised...." he trailed off, discontinuing their eye contact.  
"You want to celebrate it," House stated.  
"Well, yeah, that would be nice. But I want her to agree to it."  
"Spoken like the true Wilson."

Five days later House and Cuddy were at Wilson's for a quiet celebration of Abigail's birthday. "You caved," House said as he walked through the door.  
"I can't be exactly like you," Abigail responded.  
"Where are your friends?"  
"I don't have any." Wilson just rolled his eyes.  
"Her friend and her family are coming later," Wilson stressed.

"I didn't think it would be _this_ much later," Abigail said as she stared at the clock while they ate cake. House was playing "Happy Birthday" on guitar when he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. "Good. That should be them," Abigail said as she got up and answered the door. She opened it to reveal and panting, dirty, worn out little boy. "Nanook?"


End file.
